I \ t i ' If j- I J..II'. &r&l The house was nuisy with girls and canar- ies-gifts from Uncle Bartle in Norfolk, who bred them as a hobby. His nieces went to him for their yearly holi- day, boating and sailing on the Broads, where he kept a boatyard for sunlIner visitors A happiness such as he held never felt was re- flected on him as she talked of the boatyard and the pocket money the fi ve girls made, scaInpering barefoot on errands for the house- boat people, sWdbbing decks, selling earl}- mornIng Inushrooms Two of them had gone the same way as her- self- Ivy, who was the beauty and died after an abortion, and Cindy, the runt, now married to a rich man in Cana- da and opening church fêtes. It was so real to her, this incom pa tible past, that she spoke of it as though the rough pleasures, the ex- ploits, the eight half-crowns tossed into her dinghy from the deck of the tow- ering black-sailed wherry were still at her command. She told stories of local hauntings-the mourning coach WIth a headless driver, the hanged Abhot of St. Bt:net's, Old Shuck the enormous goblin dog-as though she believed thenl. She turned to the rasping sing- song of the dIalect as easily as turning over in bed, used loc'll idioms, said "Bless } our flesh," called hitn "Bor." Bore he Inight be; but it had shocked hirn that she should choose a moment of endearmen t to tell him so. For the rest, she told him nothing, and he hadn't much to tell about him- self. Lovemaking over, he read his evening paper and she went on with her petit point. Occasionally he read her bits from the Stock Exchange colulnn about the rise or fall of her investments-she was shrewd and pru- den t in placing her InOne} -or lacing tips, for she liked a gamble. Tune went on, methodical as the petit point. She contented him. It was what he wanted; it was all he asked for; above all, he \vas sure of it. The thought of giving her pleasure never occurred to him. He gave her chocolates at Christmas, flowers at 1n- ! r , '. ' .. ' " i \ I \ -... 1/ '-- =.. ---- -=:. - ., o/ '- J.. ("1./ 47 G r;;; · I f J - 1f ./ á ) .. / . "To me, 1t says, 'I'm creatzve, but I m also responsible.' JJ . . tervals (but she was alwavs well sup- plied with flowers), his clothing cou- pons-she had asked for theln Once, a sudden aInbition entered him. She lived on a plateau of middle age, alwc:lys using the same scent and never seenl- ing to grow older; but she must ha ve a birthday somewhere about in the year. Birthdays are to be celebrïted, presents must be a surprise. Allowing an artful interval, he asked the date of her bIrthday, the name of her scent. It was a French name, and she \-vrote it down for hitn. The date lay con- veniently near the day of his neÀt visit His chemist sold perfullles, sonle with F'rench names, but none with this name. He went to another, and anoth- er. It gave him a quickened sense of manly pride to be taking so llluch trou- ble to please Millie. He went to per- fumery departments in stores; he went to sInall crystalline shops in the \ \ cst End. Some had never heard of it, oth- ers did not stock it. Only on the eve of his visit did a grey-haired shopwornan with silver fingernails read the name as though it were a commonplace to her, unlock a glass cupboard, and froIn the top shelf reach down an oblong na V) - blue package-one of several, all of the same size and looking as un volup- tuous as wardresses. But the nalne on the label \-vas right. "How Inuch?)) he asked, thinking he tnight ask her to wrap it ornament,lll}, with bows. "Seven guineas," she said, as though he were uneduc'lted not to know it Trembling at this step Into the world l\;lillie's bosom had opened to him when he sat bleeding on the doorstep, he blinked and paid. Afterward, he re- flected that he knew more about scent than his lnother did, and had gOt a bit of his own back. For he still bore his Inother a grudge, and for anything that went wrong with hitn still blamed her: shrinlps tnade hinl sick; hand-knitted socks gave hitn nettle rash. The passage of tillle merely enforced her, for he was ilnpaled on her anniversaries. On the t\\'elfth of May his Aunt Maud shed her h,âr, the last Sunday in Au- gust haled hitn to Bishops T otterby ; on March 15th poor old Pickwick, the faithful terrier, died in agonies. As he had inherited her retentive mind, he went on accumulating anniversaries of his own. He knew the length of serVIce of everybody in the firm; he remem- bered weddIng days \-vhether or no he wa Invited to them; deaths were engraved on him as though on mar- ble He was a ledger of anniversaries He asserted himself by not observing